Mistaken for Strangers
Weymouth v Arlesey Town
Saturday 23rd November 2013
The Calor League Premier Division
Bob Lucas Stadium, Weymouth
Attendance: 401
Being a Weymouth fan
this season should be easy. Lifelong fans are in charge of the
club, after years of abuse at the hands of weapons grade arseholes
Malcolm Curtis and George Rolls, and a decent team has been
assembled.
But Weymouth FC barely
exists as a functioning football club. It's a tiresome board room
soap-opera that's long outstayed its welcome, its daily episodes
played out to a baffled, dwindling and continually disinterested
audience. Fans don't know the good guys from the villains, the
investor from the asset stripper; the plot lines are of dodgy deals
and double agents, of petty name calling and calls for solidarity,
strongly worded statements to the press and messages available only
to those able to read between the lines. It's tiring. It's pathetic.
A cup of woe.
The terraces are empty
at kick off. It's depressing. The shouts on the pitch provide the
atmosphere. Those who remain are seemingly too stunned to even be
apathetic to the whole thing. I don't miss the days of the
Conference, 7,000 against Oxford United. I miss the anticipation of
going to the ground, the “hello's” and nodded greetings with
those I once shared a 4 hour coach journey to Baldock with, I miss
feisty floodlit games against Havant & Waterlooville on cold
winter nights in front of 750, with the terraces warmed by our
passion for our club (and dislike for Billy Gilbert).
The shouts on the pitch
get drowned out, the focus shifts to he match. Joyce, Yetton and Ford
are a decent strike force, the football is skillful at times, the
linesman gets barracked (“ you tosspot”, “ you deadbeat”) and
the shouts from the old ladies of the Babs stands are as nutty as
ever (“Hold the line!!! Hold the line!!!” “Watch out for the
gingar”). The half time scores are read out, the raffle numbers
follow, the fans change ends. These parts of Weymouth FC are all
working as they should be.
The others equalise.
Their one fan claps wildly.
In the second half we,
as we always should do, attack the golf course end. The sun
disappears behind the main stand, the floodlights come on, it's
bitterly cold and the crowd are now roaring the team forward. The
old feelings return, this is how I remember it. Weymouth FC is
watching us attack the golf course end on a cold Saturday afternoon,
it's David Laws barrelling in winners, Alex Browne dribbling the ball
out of defence and it's Mark Boulton being genuinely useless. When
the final whistle goes and we've won the feeling is great. This is
why the hardcore 400 remain and it's what, no doubt, those who aren't
here for whatever reason really miss. This is what you remember as a
fan, the players, the memories connected to the stadium, not the
finger pointing and willy waving of those in charge.
Token match shot.
We all want the club to
be in a position of harmony and stability, with a focus on creating
more great memories from those wearing the terra cotta and blue of
our club. If the team is to succeed and the club is to move forward
then those in charge need to remember the feelings they had as real
fans on the terraces. The elation from last minute winners at the
golf course end on cold Tuesday evening's, the despair of being knocked out of the FA Cup to
Hinckley and Boxing Day battles over
the Ridgeway. It's what we all want, it cant be that hard.
